I wasn’t planning to write this. But life has a way of shaking you awake.
A few months ago, I lost my friend Andrew. And now, my best friend — his wife — is walking through something no one ever plans for. She’s a widow. Their three small children are growing up without their dad. Typing that feels unreal.
Devastating is not a word that even begins to cover the situation. Not just because Andrew was taken too soon—but because life is so painfully, shockingly fragile.
One day you’re planning family vacations and chatting about what’s for dinner. The next, you’re trying to explain to little ones why their Daddy isn’t coming home.
Life is fleeting.
I want you to hear me when I say this:
Book the photoshoot. Take the picture.
Not because your outfits are perfect.
Not because you lost the last 10 pounds.
Not because you finally renovated the living room.
But because this moment — right now — will never exist again.
I’m So Thankful for the Photos That Exist
I am so thankful I got to know Andrew as long as I did.
I got to watch him love my best friend so so well. The kind of love that was steady, sacrificial, and safe. He adored her, showed up for her, and he chose her every single day. The ultimate example of how Christ loves His church.
He was the most wonderful father to Carter, Hadley Rose and Ruby. The hands-on, on-the-floor-playing kind. The loud laughter in the backyard kind. The “I’ve got you” when learning to swim in the pool kind.
The Nichols’ kids will grow up hearing great stories about how wonderful their dad was. But they will also have pictures.
Pictures of him holding them.
Pictures of him looking at their mom like she hung the moon.
Pictures that prove — without a shadow of a doubt — that they were deeply loved.
And that matters more than we ever realize until it’s all we have left.
One Day, Photos Are All We’ll Have
As a photographer, I have always believed in the power of documenting life.
But now?
Now I feel it in my bones.
The photos on your phone.
The ones you almost didn’t schedule.
The session you thought you’d “do next year.”
One day, those images may become priceless.
Not because they’re perfectly posed.
But because they show who was there.
Who loved you.
Who held you.
Who laughed with you.
Life is not promised. Tomorrow is not guaranteed. And the ordinary Tuesday night you’re living right now? It’s sacred. I am so thankful for Jesus and the promises that God has in store for those who believe in Him in heaven. I’m also so grateful to call Andrew my brother in Christ. I’m comforted by the fact that Andrew is in heaven with the Lord hearing the words “Well done my good and faithful servant.”
Don’t Wait.
Stop waiting until you feel more confident, until life slows down or for a “better time”.
There isn’t a better time than today.
You deserve to exist in photos with your babies.
Your spouse deserves images of the way you look at them.
Your kids deserve proof that you were there — fully, joyfully, imperfectly present.
I’d give anything to protect my friend from the pain shes going through right now. To rewind time for her kids to have one more day with their Daddy
But since I can’t — I will say this as loudly as I can:
Take the picture.
Life is short, memories fade. And one day, picturess might be the only tangible proof of the love that filled your home.
And love like that? It deserves to be remembered.
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